


Wings of War

by Darklight1216 (FallenChaos)



Category: The Legend of Dragoon
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenChaos/pseuds/Darklight1216
Summary: Lloyd tells his side of the legend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a request that I received after I posted "Stranded in a Snowstorm" on FF.Net. The prompt was a story featuring Lloyd's point of view of the Legend of Dragoon. Here is the first chapter with improvements that were pointed out to me by my beta.

_You wish to know what it was like? I will tell you how it came about..._

"I know how to vanish in a room full of people. I have mastered the arts of influence and persuasion. No one can hide their emotions or their intentions from me."

I bowed again as thunder clapped outside.

"I wish to help you put an end to this war, Your Majesty."

"Many of my men do not think it wise to seek the help of an outsider, but I believe that a less biased viewpoint can help us see more clearly. I look forward to having you on our side." The king's voice was as steady and calm as flowing water. In our first meeting, he seemed to be everything that his uncle was not. Albert was blond where Doel was dark; eager where his uncle was brooding; trusting where the Emperor was cunning.

I sensed that Minister Noish wished to speak and turned to him. "I will see to it that you are shown to your quarters." he said.

"Do not bother one of the maids, Minister Noish." Albert said."Preparing for the celebration demands so much of their attention as it is. I will take him there."

"Very well, Sire." Noish did not quite hide his surprise, but he was very close.

I walked slowly to draw out our time together and King Albert matched my stride gracefully. He explained the history of many of the castle's decorative pieces which lined the halls. As he spoke, I began to notice more of a resemblance between uncle and nephew. Both of them lacked creativity. They could not even imagine the future, our future, my future... The painting spread before us was bordered in a classical, silver frame. This masterpiece, according to the king, showed a scene of singular beauty. The artist must have emptied his soul in order to create this piece which now decorates the old castle. But even the master painter of old could not have had dreams that compared with mine.

It would be a future without fortresses, without the wars that necessitated them. There would be no more fighting, no casualties in the future. There would be no more purpose for these thick, stone walls that we now walked alongside. They led us to a small room that was empty of the decor we had passed. It had an adequate bed and nightstand and little else. It was ready to welcome a new resident.

The king's voice hesitated. There were no more stories here. Not yet.

I could have given the king gentle parting words that would have allowed a courteous exit. But what a chance I had been given – to have the king alone to myself so soon. Emperor Doel would have eagerly traded several of his men's lives for the opportunity.

The metallic clinking sounded again. It was a noise that I would have to grow used to. Imperial soldiers also wore thick armor, but no one was quite as fond of it as the men of Serdio. The sound was ever present in the castle, but this time it was closer... closing even. A knight strode into the room. His presence made the room seem to shrink.

"Have you yet had the pleasure of meeting Sir Lavitz?" The king's face shone like the sun. A brief, but warm greeting took place between the two men. "He is the captain of the First Knighthood and one of our bravest fighters in the war against Imperial Sandora."

His majesty introduced me in turn.

"From where does the newest councilor hail?" asked the knight. The words were familiar to his mouth, I could tell, but he would have been more comfortable with less formality.

_From farther away than you will ever travel._

I gave him my practiced answer.

"When you were walking down the hallway, you seemed to move like you have some formal training in martial arts," Sir Lavitz said.

"I trained with a martial arts master in Mille Seseau; my teacher trained many of the Holy Knights." I prepared to tell him that my instructor was not half as famous as he himself was. I already knew that this knight had many accomplished lancery students, not the least of whom was the king himself.

My lips were ready to weave praises of the knighthood's bravery, chivalry and this one's particularly wise council to his king. At that time, I did not think he was any more important than the myriad of other metal-wearing warriors that I sought to manipulate. But the set of his jaw and the gleam in his eye told me that I was not being confronted by an ignorant rookie, but a capable defender of the crown.

"I hope that you _will_ prove to be... effective in our war." He had spoken to me, but the words were clearly meant for the king.

As he and the king traded a meaningful stare, I realized what had stayed my tongue. This knight had managed to stalk and observe me without my knowledge. Despite the metal trappings, he had been noiseless until he wished to be detected. It was also clear that he was among those who did not believe an outsider like myself should be trusted. He was correct about that, of course. I learned from our first meeting that this Lavitz would prove difficult to convince.

"I apologize for my lateness, Sir Lavitz. I was planning to meet you in the training room, but I wanted to be sure that the Councilor was settled."

"It is not a problem, your majesty." Lavitz glanced my way then met King Albert's gaze evenly for several moments. His pose was not aggressive, but he used it effectively to declare that he would not leave the king alone with me.

The king turned back to me. "I hope that this does not offend you," he said. "But I am not certain that you are familiar with all of our customs. In case you are unaware: the rains are soon to start. For four days there will be a severe storm. It happens at this time once every three years and it reminds us to thank Soa for the water that he poured out upon the roots of the Great Tree."

I had studied this aspect of Serdian culture already, but I saw no reason to contradict him.

"During this time we Serdians spend most of our time indoors fellow-shipping with one another in order to avoid the minor flooding. We also abstain from killing and consuming any flesh in order to honor all life forms until the sun shines down us again. Please be sure to inform the staff of any dietary restrictions that you may have."

"Thank you, your majesty." I could not rush him to leave, though I wished it were otherwise. This was a delicate time for me. The rain and thunder here meant that their cousins, the tornadoes on the outskirts of the Forbidden City had awakened as well. I felt certain that the coming four days were all that I would have to find the resting place of my ancestor's weapon. If I did not have the great sword by the time the storms ended, I would be forced to wait another three years. In addition to that, Emporer Doel was surely impatient to confer with me.

For a few more minutes we used our words to dance carefully around each other before I was left alone in my new quarters. The walls mocked me. I wanted to leave immediately, but I forced myself to wait until the castle slept. When I felt that it was late enough that no one would disturb my "sleep," I vanished from that continent.


	2. Chapter 2

The distance was painful. My ancestors could travel the world as quickly as others might snap their fingers, but it was no longer as easy for those of us who remain. I felt the wind around me, tugging at my cape, contorting it into strange shapes around my body. The gushing air brought me no relief from the damp chill soaking into me, under my skin. I knelt, bowing before the expanse of ruins of the Capital City Kadessa. I clawed at the rocks of the unyielding stone streets before me, trying to grip the world. I was not even within the real storm yet; that stood before me. By the starlight, I could see the spirals of wind, earth, and water. The three elements together. The world itself in the form of chaos. What I felt was only a ripple.

If the Winglies residents had not perished in the Great War, they would have mocked my pathetic, bent over form. I kept the cloak on me. It would protect me from the flying pieces of debris. I normally prefer not to don the cape when I can do without, when the eyes of enemies are far away.

My exhaustion meant that a permanent magical shield dwelt in the world of dreams.

Elegant towers loomed over my path. If I took a certain turn, it would lead to the area where Diaz and I had met three years ago. It was he who had told me the secret of this place. We had discussed many things that day. Things that must be done in order the world to be as it should.

The tornadoes threw me more times than I care to admit. Mud cushioned my falls and pulled me in like a lover's embrace. I have said that I walked across the Forbidden Land, far enough to lose myself if I had not been sure of the way. But that is not precisely true. I was obligated to wade through ash, crumbled stones, and swirling dust as though I swam through the earth. The storm pushed me backwards, as if driving me from the object I sought. Nature is an oft-underestimated enemy. It can also be an effective protector. The Wingly sorcerers were clever enough to know when they needn't be.

The eye of the storm brought relief. In the middle of the tempest the earth lay calmly around me. Rubble from decaying buildings rained down from the folds of my cloak. Their steady downward procession reminded me of sand falling in an hourglass and the relentless passing of time. The world around me seemed to turn as though I were seeing it through glass. No sound met my ears save that of swirling storm winds. The air whispered like restless souls. For the moment I regarded a touch of light at the horizon. It was far from enough to make my next task easier, but it was enough to remind me of the hour. In Serdio we were to have a meeting early in the morning to discuss the effect of the deluge on the army. I would need to have time to wash myself of the dirt and blood.

Then I focused on my destination. The weather had uncovered a lost section of Kadessa. The vanished buildings were being quickly excavated by the rare storm patterns. I needed to access only one. Although the surrounding neighborhood yet lay beneath the wreckages of the Campaign, the temple had already been released from its earthen tomb. Its ancient beauty glimmered like a distant constellation.

The first thing I needed were the rocks. I harvested enough stones to make an altar. The mages thought quite highly of themselves, it seemed. I had to rip the largest ones from the nearby shells of homes and educational centers. My fingers plunged repeatedly and the structure rose in turn. The task was completed quickly enough. We work much faster than humans, which is ironic given that they are the ones who have so little time in this world.

I verified the dimensions once more. It would not do to have any additional consequences for building the wrong size. Afterwards, I stretched my arm out from beneath the shelter of my cape and held it steady for the offering. With my other hand I took up my sword. Because I always kept my weapons sharp, it was easy for me to slide it through my skin. The cold kiss of metal released a wave of redness.

From those with great desire, much is required.

I held the wound above the altar. My blood poured onto it as a living sacrifice. A large mouth opened to receive the libation; teeth of stone, flesh of sand, breathe of blood. I had not deprived myself a great amount of fluid at this point, but I had already begun to wax poetic.

Absurdly, I imagined a giant tongue, ready to lick at my bleeding arm. It was only for an instant; I refused to concentrate on it. The enemies of the mind can easily show themselves to be powerful if one gives them permission.

My blood flowed slowly along the rocks as though weighted by all of the years that held it, then more rapidly- like a runner who knows the goal approaches. It disappeared into an underground reservoir. A great clanking noise signaled the opening of the temple's ancient lock system.

I passed through ancient gates and beneath jeweled arches.

As I entered a bone-littered outer courtyard great pieces of stone in the forms of mortal and immortal creatures descended around me. They were stone animals and rock-hewn creations of legendary beings. They were bears and fire-salamanders, whales and satyrs. My teachers had taught me their magical weaknesses of each animal, but to what end? I could not weave a tapestry of charms for enemies of stone.

Those who had brought these creatures to life were true masters. They moved with unnatural speed and coordination.

The smaller ones were formed from limestone, a relatively soft type of rock. They broke easily. Only a few of the other statues were truly dangerous, and that was only due to my travel weakened state and the blood loss.

The remains of the previous seekers watched my battle with the stone guards. I lured three of them into crashing together, exploding as one into a cloud of hard feathers and legs and tails.

Against another opponent I pushed my body into a speed that made the rocks nearly stand still. From there I hefted a broken shard of its brethren and hammered it into nothingness.

A bear of the Serdian forests remained upright among the littered parts. I alighted on his shoulders. The carved fur provided sufficient purchase. I used both hands to twist its massive head until it cracked and crumbled. The headless body continued to fight against me, so I leaped skyward. When I landed, my force dashed the bear through the layers of infrastructure. The upper half of its body raked at me with stone claws before I broke off the paws. Then I dismembered it. The magic was still. The witch who had brought these statues to life had surely died many ages ago. Now her last echo was silent.

The empty sockets of a mostly intact humanoid skull leered at the fractured remains of a stone gargoyle. Perhaps the owner could rest more peacefully now that his killers had been vanquished.

I continued. The outer court led the innards of the deserted house of worship. Here the remains of my people's lost culture lay exposed. Before, I had seen the temple's most recent guests; this was its past. Pieces of artwork depicted the former glory. Statues of Winglies lorded over lesser races of Gigantos, Minitos, humans, and others. Plaques explained the significance of each figure, but I could not read the words upon the walls. Because I had never had religious parents the holy writ was only vaguely comprehensible. The great hall culminated in a wall that was covered with a painting of the confident Archangel. But that was not the end. I knew that what I sought lay beyond.

I powered glyphs onto the wall. This shape, that color, these symbols, now those. The glyphs burned cool lights onto the walls and myself. They vibrated with electricity. These types of spells are not easy for me to perform, but I had been prepared for this task. The spells opened a door which had been hidden by magic, location, and time. The sand-filled room that had been revealed was dark, empty, and pulsated with unseen life. Large mounds of sand undulated as though strong winds formed grainy waves upon the ground, but the air was still.

I felt a chill in my bones. This room was alive.

I hesitated at the threshold. My shadow waited with me. Its presence told me that dawn had almost arrived. It was time for me to leave. The sword would have to wait.

When I returned, someone was waiting in my room. My blood seemed to turn into sharp pieces of ice as I looked at the still figure which stood over the empty bed. I felt behind me for the door handle a moment before the visitor turned around and saw me. "Greetings," said an elderly servant. He reminded me of someone, but I could not think of who it might be.

"Good morning," my reply was a bit too quick.

"You must startle a great many people if you often enter rooms as quietly as that."

He seemed to think that I had merely left and returned quietly as any other man might do. It was not, after all, very common for humans to suspect one another of magical apparitions. But I wondered if the servant had a suspicion that he might share with someone of high rank. The man was very old. Mightn't his sudden death seem to be an unsurprising stroke of mortality?

"Yes, Sir. That has happened before." An uncomfortable flutter of the old man's facial muscles told me that I had addressed him incorrectly. He was kind enough not to speak of it.

"I hope that I am not disturbing you," he said in a tone that told me that had indeed been his intention.

"I am here to show you the way to the council meeting room." He moved toward the door. "And as we walk, I can tell you a bit about what to expect." His offer seemed genuine. But, surely my body stank of exertion. Humans may not be renowned for the sense of smell, but their vision was sharp enough. A meeting of this sort might last for hours, and here would be far too many eyes for a bloodstain on my shoes, or chin, or gloves to go unseen. If a general should sit in on the meeting and discover my state in the presence of the king I would be taken for... perhaps for what I am.

I kept my face calm though I knew most of it was hidden beneath my hood. "Could you perhaps show me a cleansing room instead?"

"Of course." He inclined his head. "I will lead you to the one on this floor."

After sluicing water across my skin, I allowed the servant to lead me to a council chamber though I already knew its location.

I walked down the corridor stomping loudly in order to sound human. The damp smell of rain-soaked bricks seeped inside of the castle.

For the first meeting I knew it would be wise to listen and watch the steps of the dance. The other side was also affected by the deluge as well, therefore there was no fear of attack and we could take our time to prepare.

The king was already there. After bowing and greeting him, I looked for a secret entrance, one that perhaps led directly to the royal chambers, but the room seemed, at least initially, to be honest. The men within were otherwise. Many of the cabinet members were clearly much older than the monarch. Some, I knew, had been councilors when King Albert's father ruled Serdio. They had known His Majesty since he was very young and I suspected that they continued to view him through the lens of childhood. I decided that the role I would play would be that of a man who respected the king for himself and not solely for his rank. I estimated that with this method I would be able to eventually gain a greater measure of his trust.

The minister of finance congratulated His Majesty for his wisdom. The coffers were not entirely empty this time. It was possible that not many peasants would starve during the lean winter. The king assured us that he was ready to empty the royal granaries if necessary.

We heard the number of soldiers – estimations of the casualties that would have to be suffered in order to gain control of this area or another.

The elderly Kelosh, minister of diplomacy, was no longer among us, but his son eagerly reminded us of the offers and demands that Emperor Doel had recently made. It seemed to me that he had an unusual sympathy for the Sandorans. Perhaps I was not the only one with divided loyalties.

By the end of the meeting I was fairly certain that I had identified the factions of my fellow councilors. There were those from the era of the father who had inherited their position and believed that their experience made them more qualified to make decisions for the kingdom than the king himself. The other group was made up of the newer blood who were selected by King Albert. I was in their number. I could tell who was on which side mostly by their age, though there were some older members like Minister Noish who seemed to have true affection and loyalty to the king.

Even though I was not expected to contribute much to my first meeting, towards the end I sprinkled a few words which were cordially received.

After the meeting, we witnessed the training of the newest recruits. The young soldiers wore loose clothing and no armor as they stretched through the warm-ups. Though this was an official training session, the fact that it was also a holiday was not forgotten.

The first knights led these young ones in various exercises while we councilors observed. They lunged and parried, panted and dodged and blocked invisible enemies. As the training passed from very basic to more complex, older soldiers chose to take part.

When another lithe young man's tall frame passed through the wide doorway, the room paused. Many mouths pulled the air into a tense gasp of surprise. Then shy grins shattered frozen expressions. The king nodded politely and smiled encouragingly before placing himself into formation. He tried to act as though he were no more than another pawn on the board of a battlefield. The others were carefully nonchalant, though there was no way to conceal an inherent awkwardness.

The captain of the First Knighthood led them all in a series of movements which simulated a fight against two opponents. He was a gust of muscled power and precise control as he demonstrated kicks and punches. His majesty imitated the knight's forms with cool, fluid motions.

As the men stopped for a break, we onlookers quietly showed our appreciation. I drifted over to a small group of young fighters. Though I wished to, I certainly could not ask to battle them, however, I relished a chance to discuss their techniques. At my approach, one of them halted and looked at me with a stare as sharp as the weapon gripped in his hand. Cold gazes from the rest soon followed. I drew away from them and looked back at the monarch.

King Albert and Sir Lavitz lifted weapons from the racks on the wall. The metal shone with the reflected light of chandelier flames. Then the two men slid away to a side room. They probably wished to spar together and it would have been improper for the other soldiers to see hands laid upon their king. I had no doubt as to which of the two would win the sparring session.

The king's absence brought a more relaxed attitude to the rest of practice.

I tried to join the younger Kelosh and one of the other councilors, but as I arrived they turned their speech from the standard form into an inscrutable Western dialect.

I caught myself looking back to the closed door of the adjoining training room, then I left the gymnasium. I walked alone through the castle, memorizing its turns and its contents. When for the fourth time I met the painting that the king had shown me, I retired to my room until it was time for supper in the main dining hall.

Dinner was an unorganized gathering. The ranking system was utterly muddy. Some officials were here, some councilors were there. It was a jumble of nonsensical hierarchy. Doel insisted upon predictable order in his subjects. Some of his people were not fond of his overt displays of authority, but as I searched for the proper seating of someone of my rank I began to miss his surety.

A knight with a familiar face who for some unknown reason sat near the king himself, subtly motioned me to a seat across from him. Plates filled with brightly colored leaves and succulent, plump fruit lay temptingly on all of the tables.

Sir Lavitz reached for his food so I tasted mine. Rich earthy tones splashed against my teeth, but they turned bitter on my tongue as I noticed the stares. The faces surrounding me sneered and snickered; none was more satisfied than that of Lavitz. I had neglected to wait for the king to eat first. Noticing my predicament, the king raised his metal cup and toasted me as though we had both planned this deviation of propriety. I kept my features still, but my eyes were blazing beneath the dark hood.

I took my anger with me from the dinner table. I nurtured it while I waited in the small stone room. When I went back to the hidden room of the lost temple, I unleashed my fury on the moving lump of sand.

A mammoth desert wyrm frothed to the surface. Some say they never stop growing. If that is true, this one showed what could happen if a wyrm were permitted to become as old as any nation and as large as any building in them.

Many eyelids opened to squint down at me. An abyss yawned out of its great maw as it spread its rotting teeth. I sprinted away from its lunging bites. A sound like sucking wind filled the darkness. That creature was truly pathetic. The stone guardians had been a clever work of magic. This thing had long outlived its usefulness. The rushing noise that filled my ears and vibrated the room was the wheezing of the wyrm's single lung. I stabbed and sliced its fleshy corpulence, leaving a squishy remain. I should have felt remorse for its death. In my future, even animals would exist in peace as all life deserved.

Once the wyrm's life was extinguished and the last convulsions had ceased, the sand beneath me trembled and the room shook. A stone platform rose from the ground. A block of obsidian stood in front of me. I spoke its true name and the rock shifted, twisted, melted as flames burst forth. A sword replaced the black rock.

Silence waited with me as I gazed upon the Dragon Buster. Its fiery blade was fashioned from sorcery, conceived in myth, and born of legend. My hands perspired against my gloves so I took them off and reverently gripped the twisted hilt. A strange cloud of foreboding almost made me draw away from the fruit of years of research. It nearly made me leave behind something that my own blood had purchased. Almost.

When I touched the weapon it burned a freezing trail through my blood. My head quaked and my sight blurred as visions flashed through my eyes. Dragons and riders, silver wings, savage many-colored eyes. I tried to throw the sword, to cast aside the weapon that attacked its own bearer. But my hands could not release it. The skin on my palms and fingers seemed to melt into the cold handle. My joints cracked as they protested the strange contortions that I made to try to rid myself of this unearthly device.

Finally, I surrendered myself. I wanted to vanish back to my home, yearning for my earlier memories of safety. Instead, I arrived again in the small bedroom of Indels Castle. My feet stumbled to the low bed. As I lay on the rough blanket, I realized that the Dragon Buster had vanished, but I still felt its invisible presence; that unseen menace. It was mine from then. Another piece slipped into place on the board. I relinquished in the battle against unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far. LOD isn't exactly a popular fandom. I want you all to know that I appreciate your taking the time to read my work. Please let me know what you think by leaving a review.

My head, my hands, my mind throbbed as though I had not slept. The contents of my brain seemed to knock against my skull like the wheels of a chariot thundering across rocky paths. As my room had no view, I was unsure of the time or even the day. I did know, however, where the clinic was located. I could not let anyone examine my hands, but even these people should know how to relieve a head-ache.

The windows that I walked past showed me that the storms had ended. Mid-morning light cascaded down the halls, reflected off the soldiers' armor, and penetrated every corner of the castle. A normally welcome greeting to the day felt like lasers to my eyes.

The clinic was a jumble of different rooms that had been re-purposed as the civil war lingered for longer than any Basillian had anticipated. A healer advised me to rest and take two tinctures. One for the pain and another for the vision problems. The fool sent me to a window-side bed rather than a dark, cool area.

At least the space was quiet and the bed was more comfortable than the one in which I had slept. As my body rested my mind tossed. I had the Dragon Buster, but my mission in Serdio was little closer to being achieved. I knew that the Serdian moon object was likely housed near the royal family, but I only suspected it lay in the Duchy of Basil rather than the Empire of Sandora.

I could not expect a solution to simply present itself. The gem would not appear under my pillow nor the knife in my hand nor would I see my reflection in a moon mirror on a wall. I had to find a way to discover what would surely be among the most guarded secrets of Serdio. I ingested the first tincture then passed a hand across my forehead as I looked to the floor to avoid the sunlight. A hazy blob of shadow appeared on the wooden planks of the floor.

A flurry of ebony feathers flapped outside of the window. A crow observed me with avid eyes while it perched on a decorative outcropping. Despite the ubiquity of the species, I knew it at once as Doel's stealthy messenger. I snapped my head around to see if any bystanders were watching. No one was. A throbbing headache was my only companion. The bird had no letter tied to its feet nor grasped in its beak. It never did. Doel's message always summoned, beckaned to his fortress. I was not un-used to Doel's mistaken belief that I was his to call at will, but I was unsettled by this appearance. How had he known that I was infiltrating Basil? He must have spies in the castle. What if the Duchy also employed such talent and they saw me treat with the enemy?

Whatever Doel's desire was, it could hardly be more pressing than my own mission. As I pondered Doel, his nephew walked in. The infernal bird pecked at the window. The king looked quizzically at it, but as he stepped toward the window the crow flew away.

When he turned to me he said, "I am sorry to see that you are not feeling well, Councilor."

"Thank you for your concern Sire, but it is not serious."

His eyes, deep pools that reflected the sun's brightness, lay upon me for a moment before he spoke again.

"I hope that you have found nothing in our home to be lacking."

I wished that it were appropriate to tell him not to worry so much, "Serdio is a blessed country. I only look forward to the day when it is whole."

"This country, is it much like your own?" He sat upon a bench near the foot of the bed.

"I am used to a warmer clime."

His brows approached one another in an expression of confusion. "Did you not speak of Mille Seseau?"

"I've lived in many places, Your Majesty and, I have learned a great deal from all of them."

"I would be honored if you would describe your home country to me. I too have traveled throughout many lands, but there are still cultures with which I am utterly unfamiliar.

"As am I," I said pointedly. His face had years of practice in being unreadable, but I felt certain that he understood me. "The finer points of Serdian etiquette seem to elude me."

"Minister Noish can help you with that. He is well versed in all aspects of our culture and his years of experience have helped him become a fine teacher."

"I imagine that my misunderstandings may be rooted in Serdian history." This was truthful but, of course, I sought to learn much more than I could explain to him.

If there is any confusion about Serdian customs or history or values, you will find no better source than the Minister. I always tell him that this is due to the fact that he has lived through it all."

"I can scarcely imagine how that must please him."

The faintest shadow of a smile slid across the king's lips.

"You will be king of all of Serdio. I will…" I swallowed the words that I had thought of saying. "I know where to strike."

"There will be time for us all to discuss these things during our next council meeting." King Albert rose from the seat. "For now, just rest."

So much concern over nothing? Perhaps I should take leave of the castle in order to avoid becoming as soft as they were.

I watched as the king walked to bed of an injured knight and spoke with the man. He stayed by the soldier's side as though this replaceable footman were worthy to speak with royalty. He acted as though he did not mind the smell of the man's festering wounds. In time, King Albert's gentle words flowed from one room to another as he visited each soldier. He knew them all by name.

I would not be able to avoid Doel's entreaty forever. If his first hint was ignored he would send a louder message next time.

My known illness would make a disappearance understandable. The healers would think I had chosen to leave unannounced, and anyone else would not be surprised if they did not see me for a while.

Although a tiny, rebellious part of me wanted to witness what this remarkable king would do next, I did not stay. I had another ruler to see. I vanished with the noise of a feather falling.


	4. Chapter 4

I left that place and traveled directly into the Black Fortress of Kazas. The shimmer from my appearances never seemed to bother Doel as it did his soldiers. Perhaps he was only better at hiding it. I had to conceal my distaste for the surroundings. The air reeked of lizard and decay.

Rather than greet me the self-proclaimed emperor said, "My spies tell me that the hooded man who has taken residence in Indels Castle is the Duchy's new tactician. What has drawn you to Basil?"

"Why have you drawn me away?"

Instead of answering my question Doel shifted on his throne and said, "My brother's son must be every bit the fool his sire was if he heeds the counsel of strangers." He shook his head and pretended to grumble to himself. "Surely someone taught him not to trust foreigners so intimately.

"You threatened my position with that pet of yours."

"Ravens are good omens in Basil as they are in Sandora." His voice was the slow and careful tone of one explaining a concept to a particularly slow child. "I would have thought you might research our culture before trying to spy within it."

I waited silently. This seems to agitate humans sometimes, though I don't quite know why.

"Maybe I misjudged you," he finally continued. "Perhaps you do not see the purpose in learning elementary Serdian beliefs because you fancy yourself worthy of more than humble espionage.

Was he truly worried that I would compete with him for the throne? I had not been sure of the reason for Doel's summons, but my pain-addled mind could never have conceived of this.

"Political advancement does not tempt me, Doel." Then I said something that, even then, I knew I might regret, "I'm searching for the location of an artefact."

"I had not taken your kind for scavengers."

"I must stay in this country until I have what we need."

"And I actually thought you would take your leave upon finding your maiden." He pressed his fingers to his temple as though I caused his head to ache. "Perhaps my wise-men may assist you."

"What I seek is not in Sandora."

"Otherwise, I might be the one with a new tactician in my employ?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, if Basilian antiquities are holding you captive, there is one expert minster who can set you free, but I'm sure you have already ferreted his name out for yourself. However, you may find unlocking his lips a very time-consuming task."

Without another word he lurched through the double doors of his throne room. I had no choice but to follow at his heels. We moved past the Sandoran ruler's sleeping quarters to the rooms that used to hold the archives.

Two of Doel's costumed magicians idled there. At our entrance they slinked to a book-laden table in one of the farthest corners and promptly began to scribble on manuscripts there. Doel led me to a desk with five drawers, pulled a key from the thick folds of his clothing and unlocked one. He held the contents of the drawer between his thumb and forefinger.

"My mages have wanted to test their… potion." His eyes gleamed as explained its use.

"So," I repeated the instructions, "Two or three drops of this and a thimble of Rootsaw-"

"Rootswitch." He corrected me immediately.

"And Noish will caw like one of your birds."

"You must find a way to isolate him yourself. I will not risk my spies for you." He said it as though he truly believed that I would have sought more of his aid. Before I could reply he continued, "But do hurry. My armies are sweeping through Basil's holdfasts in the south and west. My nephew's ministers will not long be able to help you.

I doubted that and told him as much. King Albert was not the child he remembered, and His Majesty surrounded himself with competent generals. Basil was positioned to defend against Doel's strategy. I enjoyed the play of emotions sifting across his face as the self-titled emperor realized the obvious.

"What will your service cost me, Wingly?"

"I serve no one and my assistance is more valuable than any of the treasures you have taken. However, the village of Seles is the home of the woman we discussed before."

"I see," Doel said warily. "That request is simple enough."

"Are there any suitable quarters here? Any staff that can be trusted with Emperor Diaz's own- "

"Procuring the wench is one matter. Allowing a foreigner to lord over my own household, regardless of how small a portion, is quite another," said Doel. "No servant of Basil will commandeer a room in the Black Castle."

He extended glass container of poison to me.

I considered his words. He would give me all I asked in exchange for the information that I already had and my resignation from King Albert's court.

"Hellena Prison will suffice until I have located the object." The words tasted like table-scraps left for a dog. I took the vial delicately. Doel might have "accidentally" allowed some of the fluid to dribble onto the outside.

"Don't worry," he said, showing more perception than I had credited him with. "I take care with dangerous things that will approach my family." He probably meant to implicate myself more than the liquid. "This vial is well sealed."

I didn't want him to detect any more of my mistrust so I pocketed the container nonchalantly though, at that time, I did not plan to use it. I suspected it would kill the old man regardless of my care with the dose, thereby exposing me to suspicion and ridding Doel of what he perceived to be a competitor. If the offer of help was genuine, Doel might conceive that he had the right to call a favor from me. The poison looked more appetizing than either option.

Doel and I then discussed the tactical information he needed. Later I would deliver more.

When I returned to Indels I asked myself: where would Minister Noish spend his time? I sought the library. It fit the rest of the castle. Other national leaders had more lavishly decorated ones, but Basil's library welcomed like an embrace. Elder tomes sat comfortably with newer codices and strategically placed wall torches and desk lamps lent an unmistakable warmth. This seemed to be a refuge where servants took breaks between the bookshelves and even mingled with lesser nobles. The number of women surprised me. Basil must have recently changed its cultural views on women's education. During King Carlo's rule even noble-women were rarely literate. A few of the girls may have been less interested in poetry than a chance to glimpse their king. Royal guards flanked a curtained area behind which the king probably studied. During the fruitless part of my search, I wondered if Noish might have been behind the curtain as well perhaps teaching King Albert. When I inquired two knights pretended not to understand my accent. A young page eventually told me that the minister favored a spot near the rear of the library. I found him scrawling something at a heavy oak desk. His bony hand tremored only a little. We exchanged polite greetings before I touched on my true purpose for seeking him.

"It is said that, after the Dragon Campaign, the Winglies gave the great powers of the continent three peace offerings. Is there any evidence of such a thing?"

"Certainly not," said Noish. "Children may wish fairy tales true, but the Winglies were embarrassed after the war and brimming with an eternal consternation of humans. Do you truly believe that they would gift us with magical items?"

"Perhaps just one," I replied.

He smiled sadly at me before changing the subject. "His Highness told me that you were interested in learning more Serdian history."

"Our king is perceptive," My answer seemed to please the minister so I asked about the Middle Age of Serdio.

"Gareth Langhorne wrote two histories concerning that time."

"I should like to read his thoughts."

"I would show you to them, but His Majesty has taken those volumes. He would have made a fine scholar if only had not been born a prince," said Noish with unmistakable fondness. "In fact he knows nearly as much as Serdian history as I."

"Perhaps there are other documents that you recommend?" Even if Noish claimed not to believe in the moon objects, I hoped that there were some books or papers that might hint me towards Basilian secrets.

"I have some discourses in my quarters which I can show you. A few of the letters use the old script, but I can explain it to you."

I doubted very much that I would need his help deciphering an obsolete alphabet, but a private lesson with the minister would provide me with an excellent opportunity to interrogate him. We set a date.

Noish and I next saw one another, not in private, but during a council meeting. I used the occasion to suggest a move that would ultimately expose Basil to one of Doel's hidden forces. The Sandoran ruler would gain the distant territory he craved and with it he would own footholds to the West and East of Basil's capital. However, Doel would be displeased to find that he too would suffer losses. It would not do for the war to end too soon.

The king liked my idea. It was well-crafted to be sure, but the Minister of Defense looked disquieted. He pushed both hands through his gray hair several times while studying the maps. He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes, but he did not voice his doubt to His Majesty, and the plan was set to be carried out.

Guilt accompanied me to my bedroom. King Albert had shown me only kindness and I was planning his army's demise in order to bribe a man that was no friend of mine. Other Serdians did not seem fond of me, but I did not yet wish to see even them suffer in this war on my behalf.

I sighed when I realized that my bed was occupied. I plucked a snake from between the covers. It was only a brown garden snake, not a venomous viper nor the asp that was once favored by assassins. Yet I found that sleep came slowly.

When I sought to meet Noish I encountered his assistants barring the way to the inner quarters. They glared down at me from behind a thick, wooden desk.

"Minister Noish wishes to speak with me."

Two of the attendants exchanged an incredulous look.

"He made an appointment." I tilted my head toward their ledger book.

The lead attendant checked the ledger for my pseudonym while his partner darted uneasy glances between myself and hallway behind me.

"Councilor," said a familiar voice. The knight Lavitz had approached in his quiet way. He made far too little noise for someone of his size. "Have you lost your way?" He asked as though he thought that during my entire employment in the castle I had never bothered to learn my way around.

"No, thank you for your concern, Captain. I am to meet with Minister Noish."

His green eyes narrowed very slightly. He turned to the attendants. The chief attendant continued scanning then stopped and looked at the first knight. The latter held out his hand and was given the book. "I'm afraid you will need to make other arrangements, Councilor," said Lavitz.

Inwardly I groaned. This was more than an inconvenience. Noish would confide nothing in me now. Declining his invitation would make me seem unreliable at best and deliberately troublesome if I tried to blame my absence on trusted attendants and a golden knight.

"The minister and all of the other councilors have already retired for the night," Lavitz said, "You should too."

When I turned away from them my eyes paused on a portrait of the royal family that adorned the south wall of the foyer. King Carlo had cut a dashing figure, stout and athletic even in formal-wear. His wife's delicate facial features and limpid hazel eyes were mirrored with startling accuracy in the son that she had not known. Lavitz's reflection appeared in the glass. His suspicious stare weighted on me as I left.

Instead of returning to my bedroom, I relished a small act of rebellion by deviating outside of the castle, deep into the gardens.

In the stillness of the night the Dragon Buster and I reacquainted ourselves. Before I even drew the flamed blade it called to me not with an audible shout, but a whisper that bubbled through my veins. It wished to be used again. As enjoyable as it would have been to wield its full power while flying dramatically above Basil I had to resist the impulse. My disguise needed to remain intact until after I had both the Moon child and the Basilian Moon object. Instead I satisfied myself with a taste of the legendary sword by practicing elementary techniques.

Normally, exercising my body allows my mind to flow peacefully and unimpeded, but now my thoughts were turbulent. Minister Noish surely would have been my best source of information. King Albert and even Doel had both praised his knowledge. Lavitz prevented me from using him. Eventually the steady cuts and thrusts, steps and lunges calmed me. But the sword filled my thoughts even as it cleared my mind. The plan took life in me. Another scholarly man lived nearby. I knew where to find the information I needed and Doel's urging had given me the means. After I finished practicing, I made the Dragon Buster dissipate, and peered toward Indels Castle. The towers stood silent with lighted windows like watching eyes. The leftmost one appeared no more remarkable than the other three, but it housed the royal chambers.

I drew out the glass vial and passed it from one hand to the other and thought of the man who gave it to me. If Doel meant to sabotage my plan, I could make him drink from his own concoction. And, if Serdians were so fond of birds, why not take two of them with one trap? Let Lavitz try to force his will with no weight behind his thinly veiled threats.

I decided to poison the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about chapter 4.


	5. Chapter 5

awoke with purpose.

While Basil prepped for a battle that they would lose, I surveyed the future holding cell of the Moon Child. If the vessel had remained hidden this long, its powers were still dormant. Like any human, it could be held by chains, stymied by metal bars, and encouraged by steel tools. Hellena Prison had all of those in abundance as well as people eager to use them. Some human nations had a practice of sequestering individuals possessing unstable minds. If those inmates took charge of their asylums the result would resemble Hellena.

I once spent time as involuntary guest of a prison and during those months I learned how these sorts of places operate. My younger self had thought my warden to be cruel, but she was merely firm in comparison with the head of this fortress. Frugal seemed to be more belly than brains, which concerned me. Preventing escapes and suicides is fairly easy, but with some individuals it requires an attention to detail that blustery men like Frugal tended to lack.

I chose the guards of her floor myself. They were men that had a peculiar attachment to one other and would, therefore, likely leave the girl untouched or at least as much as I needed her to be.

With that task completed I returned to my employer. I found the king among his favorite beasts. A tawny horse carried King Albert around the livery yard for a cool-down walk. His face was flushed and his skin glistened from pleasant exertion. He appeared to have out-ridden his usual entourage of royal pages and guards. Without them, he could have passed for an average man. In his tan riding trousers chased with green and his unadorned, cream colored long-sleeved shirt he might have been a minor lord's young son or a common knight's handsome squire. He dismounted then waved a stable boy away and made off to care for his mount himself. I watched from a distance as he loosened the saddle and led the horse inside of a low-ceilinged stable. Horses in Serdio, much like most of their owners, are usually quartered in unremarkable buildings which favor function over aesthetics. Even the crown carved above the entrance lacked extravagant scrollwork. My hometown wasn't particularly prosperous, but our leaders always displayed their splendor. Not so for Basil's ruler. As I approached the stable, I wondered if King Albert's forefathers had also lived with such humility or if two decades of civil war had caused it.

Just inside of the entrance a groomsmen's closet overlooked the main hall which ran the length of the stable. Two groomsmen looked up as I tried to sneak past. The pair sat on low stools at a rough table mending bridles. I quietly suggested a small outdoor task for them to perform. After a moment's hesitation, they left. Consequently, I managed to isolated the king.

My black cloak drifted softly as I approached the stall he had entered. He had left the stall open so I did not fear betrayal from the creak of the swinging wooden door. His back faced me, but the horse saw and pawed nervously at the ground. King Albert gently soothed her with his hands and his voice. He undid the buckle and tucked the stirrups away before removing the saddle. I crept toward the threshold. He noticed my shadow on the ground and turned.

"Hello, Councilor." He moved to the other side of the horse so that we faced one another. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am, You Grace." I let an awkward pause linger before adding, "Much better, in fact."

"Is something troubling you?" As he removed a saddle blanket the color of spring leaves, the horse nudged him affectionately and some of the tension slid from the king's face. "It is always hard to read you, but you seem…preoccupied."

He lifted a damp sponge and began to wipe sweaty saddle marks from the horse's back.

"No, well yes, that is..." I started over. "I'm just glad to have found you here. I was trying to." I made my voice sound hesitant, fearful even.

"I mean to say that I needed to speak with you in private and here you are. It seems almost providential." The nervous tremor wasn't entirely an act. I knew the king was devout but, I wasn't sure if he would find my words excessive. Fortunately, he nodded slowly and seriously. With a motion, he welcomed me to join him in the stall.

"I spoke with Doel."

He paused briefly then continued cleaning as he absorbed my words. His eyes lingered on the tan back of his palfrey. "I suspected as much."

Somehow I had made a mistake. My black boots consumed my view though I did not recall bowing my head. "Truly?"

"I grew up hoping for a peaceful end to this war; an apologetic surrender or a tearful family reunion perhaps. But now I know my uncle. He has spies in the castle, and he wants something more." He cleaned lather off the long face.

"That raven by your bedside. It was one of his message carriers, was it not?"

King Albert was undeniably intelligent. I should have guessed that he could puzzle out my divided loyalties. Now I had to think of a new plan.

"Yes," I admitted with genuine reluctance. "Doel wanted me to do his bidding."

He breathed a sigh too weary for his years. "How did he tell you to do it? An asp in my bed? Poison in my goblet?

My lips twisted into a grimace. He was closer than he knew.

"I am not his (man)." The earnestness in my voice surprised even me. "I do not know his plans nor do I wish to."

"I wish that you did. Perhaps if he gave you his trust, revealed his plans to you, you could warn my commanders."

Relief trickled through me after that comment. The king seemed certain that I had resisted Doel's temptation and remained loyal to Basil.

Then something flickered across his eyes. A thread of doubt, a hint of worry, or perhaps guilt. Maybe he wanted to express something he could not say. I wondered if his mind had raced to assassination because he himself longed to send someone to assassinate the self-styled emperor. King Albert could not know that there was no one better to discuss it with than me. I had more experience than most.

"It would be a great service to the kingdom," he finished.

For a strange moment I wanted to be his double agent. But though I was growing fond of this young ruler, following his suggestion would add unnecessary complications to my plan. "Your Grace, such an assignment would honor me, but I fear I am not worthy of it."

"Pray tell me the reason."

"My allegiance would be easily discovered. Your Majesty spoke truthfully about spies. I suspect that Doel has already placed an informant in our midst and he knows my loyalty lies with you."

He peered at me from under a tumble of hair that had fallen loose from his ponytail. I explained my suspicions about his minister of diplomacy, Kelosh. In hushed tones, the king told me of his own. By the end of the conversation, I felt certain that Kelosh would soon be exposed and tried for treason. Before that happened, I wanted to use my interrogation aid so that if the poison was noticed, the blame might possibly fall on him, at least initially. An excuse occurred to me.

"My heart is lighter having confessed this matter to you, Sire. You must be thirsty from your ride.

Allow me to fetch you a cup of water from the groom's closet."

I surprised myself again as I realized that I did not want him to accept my offer. A part of me hoped he would foil every attempt that I made against him.

"That would be refreshing," said King Albert.

By light from the stable entrance, I tipped the vial over the water. The dark wood of the cup's interior would hide any slight tint of color the poison might produce. After a hard afternoon ride, the king would probably drain the cup too quickly to notice a strange taste. I had the disquieting suspicion that my work might have been too easy, but I set it aside and returned to the stall where I found the king bent over the tan palfrey's foot, picking rocks out of a horseshoe with a metal tool.

"Thank you, Councilor," he said as I extended the cup to him.

I watched a lump move up and down his throat as he gulped the water down in a few swallows. And I hoped that Doel had not lied to me.


	6. Chapter 6

At first King Albert showed no signs of having been poisoned. The day finished and the next began. It was time to set the board for the match with Sandora. The vanguard rode out under the royal standard, the soldiers' armor shining with the reflection of the morning sun. These two-hundred knights would meet with the men gathered by the lords Galand and Sylder. The threefold force would then seek to regain territory that had recently been lost. Because Doel had not had much time to assemble a large garrison, they believed retaking the area would be a straightforward affair. I knew otherwise.

Few townspeople had come to watch them leave. The nation was war-weary and had seen too many marches to remain awestruck by the pageantry of gleaming armor, sharpened weapons, and powerful horses. Most of the well-wishers were probably relatives and close friends of the departing soldiers. Some were starry-eyed adolescents who yearned for the day when they too would march for the Duchy of Basil. The remaining audience likely comprised those who hoped to see a different sort of spectacle.

The blood from Kelosh's execution still wetted the ground not far from where I stood with the other members of the war council. Several commoners stared at us as though they expected another of Doel's men to be exposed before their eyes. Finding one spy is much like finding a single louse in one's hair – there are surely more waiting for discovery.

Even the remaining knights darted occasional glances in our direction. Sir Lavitz kept looking back at us. If he had been another man his look would have been one of open suspicion; if I had been anyone else, a trickle of sweat might have rolled between my shoulder blades, but I believed his attention was focused elsewhere.

I moved closer to the object of his gaze, "Is the captain of the First Knighthood disquieted by this campaign, Your Majesty?"

"Lavitz is never afraid of battles," he answered, "He worries for me."

"Forgive me, Sire, but you do look pale today," I said softly, "It must be difficult to find out that your suspicious were correct; a trusted adviser did betray your confidence."

His eyes drifted to the building which stood above the courtyard where Kelosh had been slain. It had once been the home of a notable Serdian family, but after the war had killed the last heiress the home was converted into a prison for highborn war criminals. The steepled roof hailed from earlier architectural traditions and more peaceful eras. The king looked at it for a long time before he blinked his mind back to our conversation.

"It sometimes seems I was birthed for turmoil, and raised in betrayal." He shook his head and turned his hazel gaze back to me. "My family has already taught me much about trust." His voice was as hard as his knights' shields.

The next time that Lavitz looked back, his green eyes seemed to study the shadow beneath my hood.

We watched more of the procession before the king added. "But that is not why –" He broke off his sentence with another shake of his head as though clearing his spirit. "I think it may be wise for me to retire early today… very early, he whispered.

I knew then that the poison was working. His mind would soon be pliable and his lips yielding.

"Perhaps now that the soldiers have departed I might walk with you to your chambers where you can rest."

"Yes." He wiped a hand across his eyes. "I think I will leave now. My castellan can greet the Tiberoan emissaries in my stead and my generals are more than capable of reviewing the battle plans without me this evening. But you needn't trouble yourself. Enjoy this day."

"Your Grace, you once accompanied me to my room, please permit me to show you the same courtesy."

He nodded his consent and we walked away under an emerald gaze.

Given my company, the guardsmen did not stop us at the base of the high tower nor did the stewards question my presence in the outer chambers. As we proceeded, the surroundings became more luxurious than the rest of the castle, as befit the royal apartments. Earthy greens and lush browns enveloped the foyer of the inner quarters. It was there that the king first tried to entertain me, but he soon felt the effects of the drug more acutely. When I urged him to retreat to his bedroom he obeyed and did not object when I entered with him. A part of my mind grew wary at the ease at which I was able to subject the king to my questioning. The other part anticipated the fruition of my plan. Doel's potion seemed like to do its job and I might learn the location of the gem, retrieve it, and also gain possession of the Moon Child in perhaps a matter of a days. An orb made from chips of the unsetting moon's surface weighed heavy in my pocket.

I began my questioning with the most basic of rhetorical inquiries. "What ails Your Highness?"

"Even kings are mortal."

"Such are all humans."

"Of late it makes me wish not to be." He disappeared behind his empty eyes.

I cast about the room for inspiration. A smaller version of the family portrait I'd seen outside of Noish's chambers rested on an impressive oaken wardrobe.

"It is said that some of your ancestors were not."

"Some are believed to have been sirens and mermen," He answered slowly.

I wondered if finding the gem might possibly be as simple as diving into some sacred lake or other.

"Those are pleasing tales," I said. A slight upturn of one side of his lips showed that my double meaning was understood. "But it often seems that even the humblest of fables have a grain of truth." I spoke gently as though telling a child's bedtime story. Beneath my cloak, my hands glided over the glass vial. I wanted to give him a little bit more of the potion, but I dared not risk an overdose. "Is it not said that the transformation was made possible by a magical item?"

I watched him stare at me with a dull, inebriated expression.

"Sire?"

He did not respond.

I approached his seat and raised my voice, "Your Majesty?"

He blinked once and stared through me with a blank, unseeing expression.

"This is a very warm morning for the season." King Albert said, a few minutes later.

He was resisting the potion, but a fever would weaken him. If everything continued in my favor, he would tell me the location of at least one of the moon artifacts. If I were very lucky he might even know something of the others.

When the king stood up, I hoped he meant to lie on his bed. Instead, he asked, "Do you not wish to remove that hood?" As he loosened the trappings on his cape he added, "Surely, you must feel this heat."

I might have told him of my feelings if only I knew whether he would forget this conversation. Instead I said, "Your Highness, you were speaking with me about a certain magical item. Perhaps it was a gem of some sort?"

"No, I don't-" The king frowned before saying, "I mean to say that I am sorry for having kept you here for so long."

"It is no trouble," I interjected. "I'm very interested in hearing more."

"Go and take advantage of this day, Councilor," he insisted. "Busier times are soon upon us."

When the tower door closed behind me I breathed a sigh of frustration. My first interrogation had been led me nowhere so I considered where my time would be spent best. His Majesty was right; I had a free day. There would be no more counselling yet, but the troops were expected to arrive quickly, though their destination would have more finality than most expected. Soon I would spend many days advising the war court. Until that time, there was little for me to do in Basil.

The clear, sunny outdoors did not reflect my mood. Nor did it hint of the massacre that would soon occur. Still, I did take advantage of it by strolling through fields and woods lushened by the rain. My fingers plucked at the greenery as I drew literally and figuratively closer to Sandora.

While the castle slept I conferred with Doel's Great Commander, who was to enforce the Sandoran ruler's part of our bargain.

Seles had no walls nor fortresses. Though it was a part of Basil, the village had long expressed neutrality in the war. That night the townspeople learned that their disinterest in war did not prevent war from taking an interest in them.

The troop swept into the village smashing doors, burning stables, and shattering lives. Initially, I stood by a building marked "Post" and watched while the men made sport of their work. The upper half of one side of the wall was dedicated to announcements. Advertisements urged proud warriors to compete in Lohan's Hero Competition or encouraged young people to meet for a formal dance. I knew the people of Seles would not enjoy such carefree pursuits again. Near my hip, I felt the Dragon Buster vibrate like a living thing. I knew it wanted to be used.

A side door burst open and a woman pulled a young girl by the hand as they tried to run from the chaos. In bare-feet and bedclothes the postmaster's family never made it to the woods that might have hidden them from danger. Two torch-bearing soldiers used their war-horses to herd the pair back towards the commander. He stood inside of the only undamaged barn and there presided over a group of women. The captives ranged from grandmothers to toddling children, which was slightly irritating. I had told them find the "young women," not suckling babes and toothless oldsters. But it was no matter so long as none escaped.

"Wait," I pulled out the lunar orb. "I will test them here." The younger one seemed the more likely candidate so I approached her first. The mother sprang between us shouting, "Don't touch her!" she batted at me with fleshy fists and I had to resist using the Dragon Buster. Instead, I lashed the woman's face with my hand and she fell to the ground. The child wailed incoherently and moved toward her mother. I stepped over the woman and grabbed the girl. Holding her forearm, I tried to place the orb in front of her head. She squirmed and clawed at my glove. I squeezed until I felt the bone just begin to splinter. The girl froze long enough for me to see that the orb did not react to her presence. I let go of the girl and used the orb on the mother, but its cool, metal surface remained dark.

"Neither of them is the one." I told the waiting soldiers.

"Then what do we do with them?" The older of the two asked.

"Whatever you like."

I left them and joined the Great Commander. By the size of the town I guessed that the soldiers had probably captured all of the females. The old magic would soon reveal the vessel of the Moon. As I silently considered which of them to test, my cloak billowed like one of the many smoke clouds rising from the ruins of the village houses. The women shrank away as though they hoped the shadows could hide them from me. Some of them tried to resist, but I subdued them all. None of them triggered a reaction from the orb.

"How many women did your men kill tonight, Commander?"

"We have spared all of them, just as the orders dictated." His voice was flat to the point of almost sounding bored. He might have shown more emotion if he had known how close he was to meeting the ancient sword.

I eyed the cadets who guarded the captives with him. A steel-eyed teenager who resembled the commander avoided looking at me. I wondered if he was a nephew or younger cousin of the man. If that was the case, threatening him might encourage the commander to tell me if his soldiers had taken a few living spoils.

"Where are the others?" I pressed.

"They were all gathered for you. There are no others," the Commander insisted.

Holding a blade to his kin's throat might get me answers, but I would risk having to kill the entire troop if they turned on me. And then how would I find out where they had taken the woman I wanted? Thankfully the teen relieved me of having to decide.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Sir, a couple of the officers were still… processing the mayor and his family."

"Show me to them." I ordered the boy.

He headed toward the mayor's house. Once I distinguished it from among the other homes I left the humans behind and reached it with a speed they could not match. I paused to take in the scene. The building had not yet been damaged, but the residents were less fortunate. A soldier had fashioned a crude litter from pieces of rubble and was using it to drag the prone form of a woman's body around the side of the house, away from his comrades' eyes. Two charred, human-sized figures lay near the pallet. One of them began to move. It, for gender was no longer distinguishable, struggled toward the girl reaching out with its remaining fingers. The soldier kicked the dying person out of his way and started to fumble with the young woman's clothes. In an instant I moved behind the man and threw him against a wall so swiftly that he never glimpsed me before losing consciousness.

Touching the girl's warm cheek reassured me that she was still alive. I pushed her head upright and held the orb over her forehead. It hummed in my hand and pure light poured upward. The beam parted the skies and rose to the full moon.

So it was her. I hadn't bothered to scrutinize her features at first, but now I looked and I realized why the soldier had wanted her. she was a comely human, slender and young. I wondered if she had ever seemed extraordinary before this night. Had those corpses known she was different? Did her family guess at her uniqueness?

The Commander and his cadet arrived and stood nearby.

"I have what I need. Destroy the village, Commander."

"And the women in the stable?"

"Torch all of the buildings."

"Is this really necessary?"

Seeing his hesitance, I added, "It is his majesty, Emperor Doel's command. Take that girl into custody." I was not entirely certain that the Great Commander would obey my orders. He was a different breed entirely. After a long paused he relayed the order to his men.

Screams rose and buildings fell, but I barely noticed. I had found the Moon Child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

Disquiet settled over the war cabinet as we reflected on the reports of the soldiers' ostensibly shocking demise.

"How could they have known? The traitorous Minister of Diplomacy, had already been taken for interrogation when we planned the sortie." Baron Gilcog's voice broke the silence.

"Perhaps, there is another…" Secretary Hesler shied from saying "spy," so I proffered different word.

"Explanation."

I paused to allow everyone to focus on me. "There is another explanation. We waited too long to attack. Sandora knew that garrison was under-manned and they simply reinforced it. As I said before, it was a good show, but a powerful adversary will send them scampering back to their dens."

"They may have stymied our victory," I said, "but it cost Sandora many of the fleet's lives. If we strike now, they will be utterly surprised and helpless."

"Our side had virtually defeated their garrison before the surprise attack," Dame Roald said in agreement. Her opportunistic nature helped her inherit three of the great plain households. Thus, she understood the value of cunning manoeurvers.

I pressed on saying, "We need only deliver one final barrage; the killing blow." While I paused my speech I glanced at the General. He regarded me with one scarred finger stroking his freshly-shaven chin.

"Send the First Knighthood in its full force and you will crush them."

"But if they should fail to-," said the Secretary before I cut him off.

"With all due respect, I was under the impression that the First were skilled enough to combat a lone garrison in Basil-friendly territory," I said.

"There are no greater warriors throughout all the land," blustered General Balereon.

"Indeed," One of Secretary Hesler's eyelid twitched as he said, "Given that, mightn't it be imprudent to leave Indells without their protection?"

Basil would be more vulnerable, but that was my intention.

"I daresay the General's legion can defend the city themselves, especially for such a brief time."

Balereon nodded at my words. I was confident that he would never say his men were incapable of any task.

The Secretary spoke once more, "Retaking Crater Run so swiftly after apparent defeat is an exciting proposition to be sure, but we should first discuss this with His Royal Highness."

I took care to eliminate any trace of annoyance from my voice, "His Graces trusts our judgment."

"The king should not be disturbed from his sick bed with this matter," General Baleron agreed. "Let the boy recover in peace. The tactician has the right of it; he will agree with us."

"By my calculations, if the First Knighthood leaves immediately..." I lowered my voice as though sharing a secret. The others leaned in towards me to hear my plan.

When we finished, the first evening's stars bloomed on the twilight canvas of the sky.

An earth-tremor could not have shaken the castle more than the news of the First Knighthood's defeat. The residents of Basil trudged about with their heads downcast. Some slouched noticeably as though a weight pressed on their shoulders. Even I was taken aback. Doel should not had the resources to devastate such a powerful force in so short a time. My stay in Serdio had often felt like a flight through choppy winds, now I sensed that I was plunging through uncharted skies.

No one knew what had really happened, but voices fluttered threw the halls of the castle with theories.

"Emperor Doel must have made an alliance with those Tiberoans," some suggested. How else could he muster the force to defeat Basil's best?"

"Only dark magic could slay the First Knighthood," others whispered, "The Emperor has always been overly fond of arcane arts."

Still others insisted that Doel had found a secret weapon, one that could turn the tide of the war; they claimed that dragon-fire had been used in the battle of Crater Run.

This last account struck me as I walked to the Royal Tower. As I had orchestrated the attack, it was my responsibility to report to the king. My footfalls sounded in the corridor as suspicious thoughts ran through my head.

In the dialect of my people, I murmured to myself, "He does have a dragon." I turned the words over in my mouth, tasting their sharp edges. What I had taken as over-confidence revealed itself to the be the smugness of a man who knew he could not loose.

Doel had had a dragon before. My fingers rose to cover my nose at the memory of the corpse scent that lingered in the halls of Kazas. The foul smell was all that remained of the violet beast. Every scale and magical bone had been sacrificed on the altar of Doel's advancement. Somehow he must have acquired a replacement.

My fingers slid over the partially empty glass vial before I realized I had reached for it. Then I fingered the pouch beside it. The rendezvous with the king would be more than one purpose. During my stroll before the attack on Seles, I had gathered several herbs to aid my truth serum. The first dosing had taken too long to produce an effect. With Doel's new weapon rampaging the Duchy of Basil, I might not have an opportunity for a third interrogation. If he chose to launch his lizard against the castle, I might lose access to the one person who probably knew where the moon object lay. It was actually a wonder that Doel hadn't already attacked Indells Castle. But the overgrown reptiles were notoriously hard to motivate. It was probably lazing on the sun-bathed rock slabs of Gipfel Peak or cleaning its fangs on the treetops of some distant forest while its handlers tried to coax it to behave.

I stopped abruptly. A nameless feeling gnawed at my mind. Some vital piece of the dragon story was missing.

Footsteps stuttered behind me. I turned to see a server nearly drop a large platter in an effort to avoid walking into me. I felt obliged to mutter an apology and express gladness that nothing had been spilled. The silver platter held small bronze plates of bread and pastries. Some of the castle residents would enjoy a late evening refreshment before retiring for the night. I had visited cultures in which people fasted to mourn their dead, but in Serdio life went on. Though not for the First Knights, of course. So consumed was I by thoughts of dragons, battles, and the explanation that I would have to give King Albert, that I had not thought of a way to administer the potion. Seeing the food inspired me.

"Do you have any extra plates?" I asked.

The server's eyes avoided my face.

"I am going to visit the king, and I'm told he is fond of cheddar biscuits. I hoped he might consider finally breaking his fast."

"Take two plates." The platter wobbled in the server's haste to hand them to me.

Normally, an attendant would take food offered to the king to his personal dining room, but I was allowed to carry the plates of biscuits myself after I gave the excuse that in my culture it was expected for a guest to deliver their own gifts to their hosts (which happened to be true).

A steward ushered me through the heavy double doors of the royal study and announced my presence. King Albert faced a bay window, but turned to regard us until the steward retreated to his duties. Without a word returned his attention to the sunset view of the city and the countryside beyond. I laid the plates on a small table near a bookshelf and then waited until most of the sun had sunk below the horizon before the king to give me permission to report.

King Albert maintained a mask of stoicism as I told him the results of the assault on Crater Run. He listened to the description of defeat, and embodied professionalism as he asked for logistical details.

The skin around his eyes tightened as I told him of the casualties.

"The Sandoran runners proclaimed total victory," I said evenly. His emotionless restraint encouraged me to speak matter-of-factually. "We know that more than eighty percent of the troop perished. The Fourth Knighthood's surplus can take over a few of the First Knighthood's responsibilities, but General Balereon fears it may require several years of training to fully replace those who were lost.

"How many survivors have been recovered?"

"I am not sure yet, Your Majesty," I was, however, certain that I knew what the king really meant. "There should be more information as the days progress."

The king's gaze shifted focus from one part of my face to another as he searched for answers that I could not give.

"The council members seek your approval to begin new recruitment efforts. The nobles will be petitioned to contribute to the cost of new equipment and refreshment of of the stables," I said, "In time the Knighthoods will recover-"

"I will approve these actions," said the king. "However, we cannot stop at that. Doel's success will embolden him to strike again (and harder). I must reinforce the borders before that happens."

A dragon could fly over walls or battlements but I could hardly tell him that.

"And I want the survivors rescued and the bodies recovered." King Albert's eyes grew stormy. "We owe them that much."

He droned on about a reconnaissance and recovery mission to find the First Knights. I needed to get him to ingest the potion so that I could get him to talk about something more important than a few soldiers.

When he paused thoughtfully I said, "Your Highness, this affair has weighed heavily on all of us, and you more so than most, but you should not neglect to care for yourself.

During the pause in my speech, I must have unconsciously reached toward the food plates because the king answered me before I could utter the question.

"No, thank you," he said. "I cannot eat now."

"But Cook made them especially for you. She wishes you a speedy recovery."

"I thank her for that," replied the king, "but my appetite has diminished."

"That is understandable. I only wish that I had had the foresight to bring glasses of water instead of food. Our discussion has parched my throat."

"May I offer you a drink?"

He drifted to cabinet on the far side of the room.

"The Tiberoan ambassador gifted me with spiced Hibiscus wine."

I stared wordlessly as he showed me a glass pitcher covered with intricate whorls. Mistaking my surprise for confusion the king expounded, "The flowers are bright orange, but the berries produce dark purple juice."

"Sire, you are my king. It is I who must serve you."

He graciously conceded. I poured a glass for each of us and slipped the truth serum into the king's.

"This wine is spicier than I remember it being," he said after a few sips.

"It must have been a long time since you tasted it." The ingredient I had added to the potion was known for its heat.

"That is true."

We tossed theories back and forth about what Doel's next move might be until the king struggled to follow the conversation. His head swung side to side as he scanned the room. When I asked what he sought, he could not recall, so I began to question him.

"Minister Noish tells me that you know about the moon object the Winglies gave to Serdio."

"That thing does not exist." He brought one hand to his lips in a gesture reminiscent of shy children.

"What does it look like?"

"It does not," He started, I don't know."

My aggression clearly bothered him so I tried to be gentle and approach the subject in a more round-about way.

Initially, he nodded agreeably at my hints, but then narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why are you asking these questions?

My lips briefly pulled into a frown. I had expected better from the serum (and my additions), but perhaps it needed a little more time.

"As I mentioned before, Serdian culture interests me. What can you tell me about the gift?"

"Nothing much," He gestured toward a bookshelf. "There might be something written about it in one the older books."

"But I am seeking answers from you, not the pages of a book." I did not say. Though I desperately wanted this session to finally give me the answer, I knew I might need to remain at Indwells and it would not do for the king to have memories (whether sharp or residual) of me snapping at him.

Instead I asked, "Why do you wish to avoid discussing the moon gift? It is a symbol of peace and freedom, and an immensely important artefact of human... of Endinesian history."

I made wide, emphatic gestures with my arms as I drifted toward a handsome wall hanging.

He regarded me silently, his face a blank mask.

Through my cloak I pressed the wall behind the tableau, testing for a hidden compartment. "I would give so much if I could only glimpse one of the fabled moon objects."

King Albert was unmoved by my plea, but I persisted.

"We have a close acquaintance now, would you not agree?"

"That is true," he replied slowly.

I pushed my doubts about the potion's efficacy aside and said, "Show me something no one else knows about."

The king's shoulders tensed as he kneeled to open a drawer at the bottom of his desk. He pushed his hand beneath layers of yellow parchment and pulled out a dark, circular object. Something glinted on its surface and reminded me of the orb that had identified the moon child.

When the king flinched away from me, I realized that I had moved to his side far faster than any human could.

"My apologies, Sire," I stepped back, "I did not mean to startle you."

"It's fine," his empty hand reached up to cover half of his face. "I'm fine."

I now saw that the king held no magical artifact. It was a shrunken paw with four sharp claws.

"Do you hunt often, Your Highness?"

"I do not like hunting. This belonged to my father. He loved the sport." His grip tightened on the shriveled flesh. "He always spent so much time in those woods."

"Did King Carlo hunt in the woods of the castle gardens?"

"No. He hunted on the old grounds just like my grandfathers did before him," said the king. In a low voice he added, "My uncle and my father even took one last trip together after the war started."

The floorboards creaked under my boots as I returned to the king's side. "Where are your ancestral hunting grounds?" Were he anyone else, I would have forced his chin up and stared into his eyes until he answered me.

"They run along the Warine River, south of Crater Run."

"Is there anything unusual about those woods?"

"Spotted mountain cats live there now. They were chased from their native territories."

"Did your royal family ever take anything with them on these hunting trips?"

"Light-weight throwing spears and clubs," he answered. "They used the spears to cripple the mountain cats. Then they clubbed-"

"Did they take anything else with them?"

The king nodded gravely and said, "Horses."

Frustration bubbled beneath my skin, threatening to surface. I turned the conversation towards his family again and asked about family heirlooms and jewelry. However, King Albert revealed no caches of ancient treasure, nor could he describe any unusual objects of both great value and mysterious origin. He gave only a vague declaration that, "We keep our valuables close."

I breathed a long-winded sigh, went to the nearest window and leaned against the sill. My hand drifted to the spot where I stored the orb and Doel's potion.

A cough brought me out of my reverie and made me turn around. Having cleared his throat, the king opened his lips. But he seemed to reconsider, and clenched his jaw shut then shoved the claw back into the drawer.

I used his cough as an excuse to cajole him into drinking another cup, ostensibly to soothe his throat. His willingness to submit told me the potion was still working, but I added an extra dose for assurance. In my impatience I made a careless error.

The king's breathing changed. His respiration became struggled. The pallor of his skin altered dramatically and droplets of sweat blossomed on the bridge of his nose. I could see the fever taking hold and it was not under my control. The sickness would rage through his body burning everything it could.

I returned to my poison pallet in a fury. I wished I could flip the table in anger, but that would alarm the guard. My hands shook. I tried to ignore them by focusing on the task. A pitcher of water stood in the cabinet beside the space the wine had occupied. I used it to make an herbal mixture. The words of my teacher, an exiled priestess, returned to me: a streak of moonroot and some flakes of hinsing; stew of wardsbane applied the skin would help him.

My goal was so close that I could practically feel the power emanating from the first moon object. Yet, I found it frustratingly difficult to mix a poultice. Crippling the king, or worse, would mean losing my best informant and it would cast inescapable suspicions on me besides. Some of the knights already whispered about the hooded advisor when they thought themselves safe from my ears. Emperor Doel, for all of his blustery speech would not look kindly on me if I murdered the last living member of his family. So much rested on these leaves and roots.

King Albert tumbled from his chair. He slurred a protest when I suggested that he move to his bedroom. I was obligated to physically guide him onto his bed. It was the first time I touched his person. Hair stuck to his flushed face. If I laid a hand on his skin, I was sure it would reveal an unnaturally high temperature.

A mahogany armoire caught my attention. I searched the the bottom drawer. Beneath thick, emerald fabrics I found small, square-cut cloths. These I dipped into the mixture, saturating them before application. I pushed the wet compresses onto the king's neck and forehead.

Realization struck me. I had not taken the alcohol in the wine into consideration. It must have reacted all of the other potion ingredients in an unpredictable way. Whether the effects would heal on their own remained to be seen.

As I waited he shook his head from side to side, dislodging the cloths. I was absurdly displeased though the entire mess was my fault.

"Where is Lavitz?" the king mumbled.

"He left you." I said quietly. Then with boldness, "Sir Lavitz is gone. He will not return."

His masked cracked a little. Malice rose in me like a fell beast awakened. I removed the poultice.

For all of the power that a dragon could bestow, Doel had a glaring deficiency. Despite a long marriage and several trysts he had never fathered a child. King Albert was his last family member. If his nephew were gone, the prideful usurper would have everything, but he would spend the rest of life watching it all descend into the hands of strangers… maybe even foreigners.

"The knights seemed excited to set out." I continued. "That's not surprising though. No vigorous young man would want to languish in a stone castle.

My inability to procure the Moon objects was obviously frustrating, but I had not known this mean-spiritedness dwelled in me.

The king looked at me, his gaze momentarily clear and his expression deep. Those eyes and that face had greeted me when I entered the castle, laughed with me in the stables, trusted me when-

I replaced the compresses and stayed with him until his fever diminished and he slept peacefully.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the last chapter was so long perhaps this one can make up for it.
> 
> Cheers to anyone who made it this far.

I pretended that guilt did not hasten my return to the prison of Hellena. The girl's condition needed to be inspected, I told myself, and Fruegal had to be reminded of Doel's plans. It was not that I wanted to see if any member of the First Knighthood lived. I convinced myself that I did not wish to make amends to King Albert by offering the comfort of good news.

Some of the First Knights still lingered though most had succumbed to battle wounds. As I strolled past their cell-block, a man fell to his knees and then to the stone floor. The nearest wall-torch illuminated the stripes on his back where whip lashes had exposed glistening muscle tissue and rib bones. I paused to see if he would move his head so that I might identify his face; maybe I had met this knight before. But the man did not move again. The two remaining survivors were the unfortunate ones. Their supervision had been given to the ex-mates - prisoners who had turned to their jailers' cause. They were known for matchless cruelty.

I had once thought that these types of individuals became what they were after they had been reshaped and twisted by external forces. As I pondered my behavior the previous night, I considered that maybe madness was not driven into a person by the cruelties of torturers, but teased out by the availability of a victim.

My thoughts were soon distracted by a prison break. From my perch within the shadows of a third floor overlook, I observed as a flash of scarlet darted from a recently arrived supply wagon. It moved in spurts and stops, hiding from guards and dashing into corners as the opportunities arose. The figure shortly met with another rogue character who proved to be the captain of the First Knighthood. The two clashed weapons at first. The stowaway's steel blade slashed against the knight's attack, but Lavitz, who had probably stolen a weapon from a guard, wielded his spear with unshakeable confidence. Somehow, they seemed to reach an agreement to work together.

Even my ears could not pick up every word, but I gathered that the invader sought to free only one of the inmates. I had half-hoped that he would lead a prisoner revolt. Seeing Doel's most valuable prison brought down by a single infiltrator would have been quite amusing, even if Sir Lavitz would have been glorified by the deed. Unfortunately, an inmate rebellion would have endangered my own captive so I was glad to learn that they did not plan to remain.

The knight and the red-clad warrior shamed Frugal's men as they carved their way through the jail. After they left my view, no excuses remained to prevent me from experiencing the unsavory head warden's presence. I planned to ridicule him for his men's incompetence, but it was Frugal who delivered more fateful news.

After a peculiarly long wait in the designated hallway, the head warden finally arrived… or at least most of him. He looked to have left a great deal of blood at the site of some skirmish or other. Even in the dim, flickering torchlight I saw that his body was riddled with wounds that would have laid down a weaker man.

He seemed not to notice me as he thundered, "Bring that girl back here!"

Several staff members scuttled off either to put the Warden's order into practice or to appear to do so.

Initially, I wanted to plunge my fist into his gelatinous abdomen, but I resisted. This development could be prove to be a boon. The red warrior was obviously not Doel's. He had a prison full of hirelings and wouldn't need that type of subterfuge.

"If she isn't back in that cell by nightfall it'll be on your heads!"

"When did you sneak in here?" Despite the bravado in his voice, Fruegal stepped backward as I approached.

"Should we report this to His Majesty Doel?" I asked.

"They won't get far." Reddish spittle punctuated his words. "I'll make sure she's brought back alive."

I reflected on the red fighter who had befriended the knight Lavitz. He had toted a large blade that looked almost heavy enough to be a broadsword, yet the hilt was short enough that its owner could choose to wield it one-handed. A Bastard Sword for a noble's illegitimate get, perhaps? One who became infatuated with a commoner's daughter? The thought was more sickeningly romantic than I could stand. But if this young man was so determined to rescue the girl, he would not harm her.

Keeping the Moon Child away from the king's uncle could only work in my favor, and I knew that there was but one place the knight would take them.

I decided not to worry for her. Sir Lavitz was among Serdio's most battle-proven warriors, and his newfound companion looked more than capable of traversing the wilds of Serdio. They could deliver her safely to me when the time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter or any of the others.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic. I know it's a long one and I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate your taking time out of your day to read my writing. I am especially grateful to everyone who has posted a review (which as of this day [8-9-17] only applies to FF.net]. You feedback is more encouraging that I can express.
> 
> Happy reading.

I didn't realize how much the events in the prison would eventually change things for me. I acted as though the next morning were identical to previous ones. After my tactical assignments were complete for the day I spent the evening as I would the next several - searching for the Serdian Moon object.

Flying would have been a pleasure, but apparating was faster. I appeared in a shallow valley thick with trees. Their foliage blotted the stars from my view. Every breath pulled moist forest air into my chest as I made my way down to Warine River. I could only hope that the king's blaisse mention of this body of water had been a ruse to hide its true importance.

The stony banks made me suspect that if any of the moon objects were here it would be the moon gem. I should never have expected to see it glimmering among the normal rocks. That would have been entirely too simple (and a supremely foolish hiding place), but I was growing desperate. I shrugged out of my cloak, rolled up my pants, and waded into the stream. I trailed my fingertips on the water's surface and drew sigils of revelation into the ripples.

Eventually I had to relent. The search was fruitless. The moon object could be anywhere in these woods or nowhere near them.

My attention returned to the castle and I searched its contents anew.

In doing so, I found the obliette, the old dungeon whose entrance the Basilites had buried as though they could tuck away the memories of their atrocities and pretend they had never existed. Experience and instruction have taught me that all nations have such places. Areas that they try to ignore; past events that are no longer welcome recollections. The Duchy once hosted a fleet of researchers who conducted peculiar experiments. The unwilling specimens were kept and bred in the obliette. Such a little known and rarely visited part of the royal complex would have been a good place to house the Moon object, but alas, none of the charred skulls held a magical mirror; the rotting clothes taken from long dead prisoners did not hide the eldritch dagger; and the bone saws were studded with nails, not the lunar gem. Searching the labyrinth of dungeon tunnels served no purpose save to twist my own mind into a maze.

My thoughts turned to doubts. Suspicions chased one another in my mind as I considered my situation. In Serdio I had earned my way into the king's council, treated with an emperor, and captured the Moon Child. If I couldn't even find this moon relic despite such favorable circumstances, what would the deserts of Tiberoa do to me? How would I fare in the frozen tundra of Mille Seseau? Would I spend centuries looking for these things?

Some days later when we were scheduled to assemble for a morning briefing I still had not thought of a solution, but my brooding was interrupted by an announcement.

Sir Lavitz, Basil's golden knight, lived. Indels rejoiced at the return of one of its favorite sons. His presence brought a radiant smile to the face of the king. The news that he delivered was less joyous.

"My king, Imperial Sandora has acquired a devastating weapon," said Lavitz, "They used a dragon to overcome us at the battle of Crater Run."

"A dragon?" The king sounded surprised but schooled his face into passivity. "Were they not driven to extinction during the Great War?"

Minister Noish took the opportunity to remind everyone present about the Dragon Campaign.

He finished by saying, "The remaining dragons disappeared from history, but it seems one has now returned."

"Sir Lavitz, what happened after the battle?" the king inquired.

"After my First Knighthood was defeated I was captured and taken to Hellena Prison."

I stood close enough to the throne to see the king's shoulders tense. Hellena was infamous throughout Serdio.

"But I was able to escape with the help of two people." Lavitz continued. "Your Majesty, it is my honor to present my companions Dart Feld and Shana, of Seles."

I waited for the announcement of the man's ancestry, but none was given. Perhaps I had overestimated his importance. I looked more carefully at them both. The Moon Child shifted from one foot to the other in obvious discomfort under public scrutiny. However, I saw no wounds on her legs or arms and she didn't appear to have lost weight since I last saw her.

It looked like Lavitz and the red armored fighter had taken good care of her as I expected they would.

The man named Dart possessed a beauty that was exotic in this part of the world. His wild hair shone like bronze in the soft morning light.

A foreigner who had gained acceptance as a Serdian and even Sir Lavitz's confidence must have an interesting story indeed, I thought.

"You have my condolences, Dart and Shana," said the king. "Know that the Duchy of Basil is sending aid to the survivors of Seles."

The two shot glances at each other, at the king, and finally looked at Lavitz. He spoke for them, "Thank you, Your Highness."

"I do not know how to express my gratitude for aiding our captain and helping my friend," replied the king.

"Sire, there is perhaps one favor that you might grant." said Lavitz.

King Albert nodded his permission to speak the request.

"Dart is on a mission to avenge his family and Shana has no home to return to. Dart begs Your Highness to allow his friend to remain behind the walls of Indels until his campaign is complete and a more suitable arrangement can be made."

The girl in question snapped her head toward the blond. Her mouth dropped into a surprised, "Oh. That's why-?!" She clapped both hands over her mouth as though she had surprised herself by speaking aloud.

The young man, Dart, carefully kept his eyes on the stone wall behind the throne.

I was not the only councillor who chuckled at the exchange, but the others likely did not find it amusing for the same reason. Clearly I was not the only person who had trouble finding a proper place for this woman.

"I cannot guarantee Shana's safety." said the king, "We are holding the battle lines at Hoax, but even the ramparts here may fall to the might of a dragon. There is no safe place in Serdio now. But, while the castle is still peaceful it would be best for the two of you to think about your future."

Sir Lavitz saw that his new friends were settled before he joined us in the council chambers. Our morning briefing became a great deal more interesting than anyone had expected. Lavitz enthralled us with his account of the battle and his subsequent imprisonment. It was then that we learned he was the last of the First Knights.

Throughout the discussions King Albert constantly turned his eyes to Lavitz. I had no love for the knight, but I could not resist a feeling of gladness as I saw how much his survival pleased the king.

It was decided that Lavitz would journey to the fortress of Hoax to lend his expertise to the commander there. Hoax was a vitally important border town. It could not be allowed to fall into the Empire's clutches.

A scribe penned Lavitz's account of the battle of Crater Run. It was considered a historically significant event in need of immediate documentation due to the dragon's appearance. Minister Noish had proofed the manuscript and declared it acceptable, but I suggested that the king might like to read it himself before it was stored in the archives since it concerned his friend. I volunteered to deliver the document to the Royal Tower.

Sir Lavitz was leaving as I arrived. We regarded one another on the courtyard path. I nodded an acknowledgment of his presence. He nodded civilly to me in return. As we passed each other I noticed a gingerness in his step as though he had sustained a minor leg wound or perhaps pulled a muscle during his journey home. It is probably needless to state that I did not ask after his health.

The king sat at his desk in the royal study. His body slumped over a pile of books and charts, asleep.

He had seldom rested since the demise of the First Knighthood, so I crept soundlessly to the desk and placed the document without waking him. A map fell from his lax hand and landed among a spread of handwritten papers.

Upside down it was hard to read his notes, but it looked like he was trying to calculate flight speeds and marching progress.

While he slept the lines of stress and worry disappeared. He was young even for humans. I wondered if he might live to see the day of harmony when my plan would be completed and all of this warfare would cease. Of course, for that to occur I had to find the gem, dagger, and mirror. On an impulse I pulled out the lunar orb and pushed the detector towards King Albert. It quaked in my palm. For an instant, my hand trembled around it. What could it mean? I refused to let fear settle in me. It could not have made a mistake. Emperor Diaz had assured me that the orb was infallible.

And yet… what if-

I returned to my room, sat upon the bed, and lost myself in thought.

No lunar-blessed human could survive the attention and scrutiny that rulership demanded. King Albert was not secretly the Moon Child. He would have been identified and culled by the demon that some called the "Black Monster."

I ripped my glove off and clenched it in my fist.

But if the orb made a mistake with him, could I trust its identification of the girl?

I brought my closed hand to my lips and gnawed one finger as I had not done since my youngest years.

I had no Moon object and possibly no Moon Child.

My fingers pressed against my eyelids until starbursts filled my vision.

My bedroom had no windows with which to tell how much time passed before the patter of strange footsteps approached the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we didn't realize this was a bedchamber," The young man backed out of the doorway. The girl at his side slid away too.

"Lavitz told us to explore the castle for a while, but now we're trying to find him," he explained.

I stood up and said, "Dart, is it? And… Shana?"

They nodded.

"I am sorry about what happened to your village." My sincerity was feigned, but I honestly suspected that the attack on Seles might have been for nothing.

"In the throne room Sir Lavitz said that you plan to find the men responsible. I would caution against that."

"Seles is Shana's home. I seek vengeance for my hometown of Neet, in Mille Seseau," said Dart, "Have you heard of the Black Monster? That's the man I'm looking for."

"I think all Endinessians have heard of the Black Monster."

"You're from Endiness?" Dart's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I've lived all over, but I've never heard an accent quite like yours."

Ignoring the implied question, I asked, "You really believe that the Black Monster can be found?"

"Yes!" said Dart. "And I'm going to find him."

"What will you do when you catch up to him?"

"I'll avenge my parents and my friends and my home." He paused before softly adding, "He destroyed everything."

"So where are you going to search next?"

"Finding the Black Monster has consumed my whole life." Dart said, "I left everyone behind to pursue him." His eyes grew distant as he looked at Shana. "It nearly cost me everything again. For now I'm going to put aside my vendetta and help end this war. Lavitz says that Sandora is marching on Hoax."

I nodded in agreement. Lavitz must have taken a strong liking to this young man if he had given him the details of our briefing.

"I'm going to help him fight," said Dart.

"So am I." Shana spoke to me for the first time. The determined set of her jaw suggested that this was her own decision.

I should not have let her go. Anything might have happened on the battlefront. It was a foolish risk. But at that time I was so discouraged by the moon orb's misidentification. Some tiny part of me gave up; I suspected that Shana was not even the Moon Child. Everything I had done in Serdio had only twisted me in circles.

I should have held on to her just in case, but we all make mistakes.

I wish that I could say the time passed in a blur, but that would suggest that I actually accomplished something. Instead the days melted into one fruitless melange of unhelpful research, false leads, and wearying pursuits.

Finally I stopped in Lohan. The notice I had seen in Seles tempted me. No one in Lohan's Hero Competition would be likely to present a true challenge, but I longed for a distraction. The combat would allow me to focus on something other than my failure even if only for a few hours

The brightly-colored tents of the event grounds brimmed with people. While I waited to be matched with an opponent I surveyed the crowd. My eyes were drawn to the flowing robes of the desert dwelling Tiberoans and the sleeveless, short clothes of the Seseauttes, for whom the Serdian weather must have seemed quite warm. Feathered headdresses of the Western Tribes stretched above most people's heads save those of the tall, dark-skinned East Islanders.

Of course, a great number of Sandorans and Basilites came to watch the event as well. I slipped out of my cloak, realizing that, in this case, my silver and black vest was more suited to the task of shrouding me from recognition.

An usher led me to my bracket group and told me whom I would face first.

Eight of us crowded in a covered pavilion. Dart stood among the competitors. With his blood-red armor and steel Bastard Sword, he had a hero's look. If I wasn't competing, I probably would have rooted for him.

As it was, seeing him made me remember Shana and my other embarrassments. Anger flared in my chest and I looked away from him and studied my first opponent. The muscular adolescent noticed my gaze and lifted his war-hammer in salute.

He was supported by a small group of people that cheered far louder than their numbers would have suggested possible. Homespun banners proclaimed that the boy was the hometown hero of Seles village. I recognized a few of the hopeful spectators. These survivors had probably pooled their resources to outfit their champion in hopes of using the winnings to rebuild their homes. They should have made a wiser investment.

He was quite strong for a human, but my flurry of blitz attacks ended his chance to glorify his hometown.

The second match pitted me against a shepherdess. I knew better than to underestimate an opponent, but this one surprised me. Her precision with the slingshot was incredible. The crowd roared its approval for this underdog, but she was no match for my quickness.

I felt the Dragon Buster's presence throughout the battles like a small weight tugging at my mind, wanting to be used.

The penultimate competitor was an elderly martial artist. His fists parted the air near my midsection. The next blows would have shattered my knees. The man paused and strangely closed both eyes. The short moment was enough for my mind to race to an eager conclusion. He knew my skill was superior and now calmed himself to accept inevitable defeat. The reasonable warrior knew that most paths did not end in victory.

But I knew not to relax my guard. In my youth I had made such a mistake and it nearly cost me far more than a prize purse. His muscles tensed in preparation for a sly maneuver. I struck first.

Then it was time for the final match to determine who would be the so-called greatest fighter in all of Endiness.

It seemed almost providential that Dart and I should meet in this bout, so I dedicated the match to what fate has in store for us. At that time I had barely an inkling of what that might be.

Dart slashed at my guard; his movements were an explosion of power and speed. Most warriors rely more on one than the other, but he had a rare combination of both. Dart attacked with the discipline of a trained student and the desperation of a street fighter. He was very good and I enjoyed playing with him.

When he repeatedly failed to land a blow on me, frustration began to show and his sword-work suffered for it. If my life had followed a different path I might have loved to instruct a student that had been blessed with such raw potential. Dart pressed on despite his failure. I wondered if I would have been a teacher worthy of a student of this caliber.

When his thrusts finally slowed and his legs began to tremble, I threw a series of swift slashes at him to end the match and the tournament.

After I collected the winner's purse I sought to speak with Dart. An usher thumbed through her ledger, found his name, and told me that he was in the infirmary tent being treated for the minor wounds his cheating opponents had inflicted in the early rounds.

Dart did not notice when I brushed past the flap of the tent. He sat on a cot with his eyes tightly closed as a nurse tended him. A long piece of barbed metal was slowly drawn from the flesh of his biceps. After the wound was wrapped the other person reached out to squeeze his shoulder and murmured words of comfort. The man I had taken for a nurse had a familiar voice. Sir Lavitz noticed me before Dart did.

"Your swordplay was like nothing I have ever seen," said the knight. His manner lacked the brusqueness that I was accustomed to receiving from him.

"Thank you."

I turned my attention to Dart and encouraged him saying, "You haven't reached your limits. You will become even stronger." You will have to be, I thought. If he truly managed to confront the legendary black monster, he would need inhuman abilities to emerge victorious against a foe that was rumored to be immortal.

Lavitz tried to engage me in conversation again. He expressed his disappointment at his ineligibility to take part in the Hero Competition due to his knighthood. I told him that it was just as well since he would not survive an encounter with me.

When I exited the infirmary a large portion of the crowds had already dispersed. The city of Lohan offered many amusements to occupy travellers. Those who remained were eager to meet the contestants and I had trouble extracting myself from them. The Seles villagers did not join the excitement. They huddled together like a herd of lost sheep. I gave them the prize money before I left.

The sun was near setting when I stopped at an inn for supper. The fights had sated my anger and soothed my frustration. I rested, temporarily pleased with the world, when a clamor reached my ears. Pockets of townspeople tripped over one another in their eagerness to spread the word. A knight of Basil had used his last breath to bring the news, or a Sandoran soldier had just arrived to herald the new order. How the message arrived was something I never found out, but it was irrelevant. What mattered was this: Bale had fallen to the Empire. King Albert had been captured and taken to Hellena Prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I can't wait to read what you think about this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

The prison guards did not object to my presence and it was not solely because they had become accustomed to it. The men had no time for me, so enthralled were they with their sport.

They called it his punishment though it was common torture. "He deserves it, the little bastard!" they insisted. The Sandoran soldiers had lost their lands, the places they called home. Some had volunteered to fight, but others had been forced into a war that began before they were born and that was older than many of them would ever become.

For this they dared to assault a king. As I said, this was torture and nothing more. Even condemned prisoners merited a certain respect from their fellow humans. But these Sandorans did not even seem to care that this man was a blood relative of their emperor. They laid hands upon King Albert at their leisure. They violated his royal person with cruel pleasure. I think I have seen slaves treated with more compassion.

This was not my war and I had no right to interfere. Still, I felt a shame unlike any I'd experienced before. My insides twisted about as I watched. Instead of wasting my time on fool's errands, I could have played the tactician and helped the Kingdom of Basil avoid this outcome. When I could not watch any more of it I retreated into the hallway and tried not to hear the sounds of flesh striking flesh. I shouldn't have worried for him. He wasn't integral to bringing about paradise. Yet I closed my own eyes when I heard the noises they drew from him.

At last the Hellenes tired of their amusement and returned to their duties. The door to the loft was left open which troubled me. They seemed to have no fear of their captive running away. Had they crippled him? Had they done something worse?

The open door drew me like a moth to a flame. There was no point in trying to resist - I had to know how Albert fared. But once he knew me, everything would change. I could have taken my cloak off and shown him the body of a stranger, but I feared this was the end of our relationship and I wanted him to see the truth. It was time for him to know what I was. I entered as the hooded man, his councilor.

His Majesty quivered as he kneeled on the stone floor. His body reminded me of a tree battered by winter storms. Torn clothing pooled around him like a bed of leaves. One hand was attached to a chain and shackle; the other he had worked free. When he heard my footfalls, Albert used his free hand to clutch the shredded clothes to himself as though they were the tatters of his dignity.

I expected his startled surprise to become an expression of horror when he saw me. Instead, his eyes reflected a clear serenity. The king must have been awaiting this moment, when he would be betrayed by someone close to him just as his father had been.

We regarded one another wordlessly.

There are moments in life that turn a person from one pathway and onto another. Moments that alter destiny and change fates. Usually these times are clear only upon reflection. But as I looked at him, even without the benefit of hindsight, I knew that this was one such moment.

Two pathways opened before me. One continued my ruthless pursuit of the moon objects, the other allowed me to help the man with whom I had shared something not so different from friendship. I could liberate him and say that it had been my purpose all along. I could even simply back out of the room and let him escape.

But my mission was to bring about utopia. I had not come to Serdio to make friends.

I moved to the shackles.

The cuffs were too loose. One of the soldiers must have gotten careless in his revelry.

When I pulled Albert's arm back to chain him properly I saw that his hand clenched a large, rusted nail. He must have found it on the floor, used it on the handcuffs, and then tried to hide it underneath the pieces of his torn shirt. The nail was longer than the span of his hand and it looked sharp, but he made no effort to stab me with it. I still wonder why. Perhaps he too had made a choice.

I forced the knife from his fingers, and after I had restrained him, I walked around to his face. "Did you know?" I asked.

He did not respond. Not to my first question nor any others. Eventually I left him.

Time passed. The sounds of a prison break clanged through the walls. Soldiers tried to gather themselves into functional units even as their partners perished under the blades of unknown attackers. Rather than a break-out, such as the one Sir Lavitz had been a part of, this seemed to be an invasion. The king was surely the target. He had been alone when I left him, but I knew the warden would soon place himself and his best men between the would-be rescuers and the monarch. I didn't allow my mind to consider any other reasons for their presence. Instead I focused on my task. The moon gem should have been close; it felt so close. In frustration, I pressed my hand against the closest wall. The stones seemed to vibrate with the roar of Hellena's guardian creature. The animal sounded as hopelessly frustrated as I felt myself becoming. Surely the king knew the answer that I sought.

Suddenly, although Albert had refused to speak, his words returned to me, "We keep our valuables close…" Even his uncle had been careful with things approaching his family… of things "close." They both knew. Another memory slipped into place. I understood why the moon orb had reacted to so strangely in the presence of King Albert.

The clues gathered together like a shards of a broken vase, not exactly a perfect fit, but a clear image of what should have been. As water is poured into a vase, the moon object had been placed into a vessel; a living vessel. My cape flew behind me as I raced back to the top level. Suddenly my feet grew leaden. The jewel could not be extracted without a price. My breath caught at the realization of what I would have to do. The recuperation of the three moon objects had always demanded that I take from someone. Now I sensed that I might be the one bereft. A cold feeling moved down my spine. I took a deep breath, then two. The path I had rejected remained; I could still choose to walk a different road. King Albert had shown me only gentleness. He would forgive me if I confessed.

I continued to the loft. My choice was made.

On the spacious wooden floor of the receiving area Fruegal battled with the knight Lavitz and his new friends, and I slipped past them all.

I heard the rushed footsteps and the clang of drawn weapons. In little time Fruegal was no more, but he was there. King Albert, the vessel of the Moon Gem was chained before me, kneeling like a sacrifice before an altar. His hazel eyes widened when he saw my caped form return. I could hear my own breaths coming out in a pant; so great was my anticipation. He shuddered at my touch and tried to flinch away. I forced my gloved hand through his skin, past the muscle and blood and bone. There! It seemed to hum and quake as my hand enclosed the smooth circle of metal and stone. An ethereal light leapt from the king's body before he slumped to the floor with a soft thump.

One third of utopia. The gem felt cool through the fabric of my glove, but not unpleasantly so. It was much like cupping a handful of water. Acquiring the moon gem had been nearly as difficult as grasping water despite the fact that it had been with me for months. Available, vulnerable. Sandora's last push to capture the king had been for this. What might Doel have done with it in his greedy grasp? The first of the moon objects shined before me, a melding of white and clarity. The light faded into a ghostly crown of purple flames. When the colors vanished completely I brought the moon gem into the folds of my clothing.

Lavitz's group faced me from the other side of the room. The girl wisely stood behind the others. Her empty quiver would have been useless. A darkly dressed woman waited and watched silently. Dart held his large sword in a defensive stance. Surprise and wariness played across his face.

When Lavitz looked at me he saw what the Sandoran soldiers had perceived in the king: the reason for loss, the person who had harmed something important, vital, and precious. His piercing eyes reminded me of the forest greens so favored by the king who lay near my feet. The poisonous gaze was also one that had glared at me across the tables and rejected me for my origin. His usually haughty regard became one of absolute confidence. He moved toward me.

An outraged roar of fury; a whipping gust of wind.

The Serdian knight transformed into one of the ancient warriors, the green dragon-master of yore. I drew my weapon. The Dragonbuster's flames blazed, ready for battle. It called to me. I did not hesitate to answer.

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed reading this story. Now that it's over, please tell me your final thoughts.


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